


Eclipse

by MirandaTam



Series: Jedi Shmi AU [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Force Healing (Star Wars), Force Techniques, Gen, Minor Injuries, The Force, The Jedi, The Sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaTam/pseuds/MirandaTam
Summary: The Sith and the Jedi use the Force in very different ways.
Series: Jedi Shmi AU [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/480208
Comments: 30
Kudos: 283





	Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> *looks back at the past year* _Well._ That didn't go according to plan.
> 
> Many thanks to [ViciousMaukeries](https://viciousmaukeries.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing this!
> 
> As always, I'm on tumblr as [MirandaTam](https://mirandatam.tumblr.com/).

Shmi is less prepared than she’d like to deal with the crying girl in the middle of the sparring mats.

That doesn’t mean she’s not prepared at all, of course; she’s certainly more prepared than Quinlan is, with the way he’s hovering around her, not-quite-touching her, looking like he wants to flail his arms or tear his hair out, panicking.

“Sit _down,_ ” Shmi snaps at him, because he’s not helping. Quinlan sits.

Shmi sits, also, kneeling on the mat before Aayla, who’s doing her best to gulp back the tears. “Deep breaths,” she says. “You know how to do this, _Freykaa._ Inhale, exhale. In… and out. In… and out. What happened?” She directs that last question at Quinlan.

Quinlan winces, but it’s Aayla who answers, tears still trickling down her face. “I t-tried a jump,” she says, her voice rough. “I saw someone e-e-else do it and I thought I c-could make it, but…” she tries to hold out her arm and yelps, a fresh cascade of tears starting to fall.

“Just focus on breathing,” Shmi orders. “Quin, help her with her breathing.”

“Right,” Quinlan says. “Here, Aayla…”

Shmi tunes them out as she takes a look at Aayla’s arm.

It’s a simple break, or at least that’s what it looks like from the outside; Shmi gently helps Aayla lay down, then brings her arm out so she can examine it more closely. It’s definitely broken – Shmi can feel that both with her hands and in the Force. She’s… she’s trying to not let herself be surprised by the level of pain that Aayla is feeling. Even after three years on Coruscant, sometimes it still shocks her to learn how coddled the Jedi can be. No, she corrects herself; it is not that the Jedi are coddled or soft, it’s that she and Ani were forced to live in unusually harsh conditions. Nobody should _have_ to set broken bones themselves, or work through the pain, like she has. The fact that this is so shocking to Aayla to cause this level of pain is good. Well, the pain itself isn’t good, but it means that Aayla hasn’t had to deal with broken bones much before, if at all.

“It’s going to be all right,” Shmi says softly, becuase it is. “It’s a fairly simple break; we should be able to get something to immobilize it in the sparring infirmary. Or, if the proper healers here have some way to mend bones faster…?” she trails off, glancing at Quinlan.

“If I may?” says a raspy voice from above.

Shmi looks up and blinks in surprise. “Master Plo, I didn’t see you there.”

Plo Koon kneels down beside her. It’s hard to read his expression, covered as it is by his respirator mask, but she thinks he’s amused. “You were distracted, entirely reasonably. Padawan Secura, may I see your arm?”

Aayla nods. Her tears have mostly dried up, and she only whimpers slightly when Plo gently takes hold of her arm.

“You two have probably not seen much healing in action,” he says to Shmi and Aayla. “And, Master Vos, I believe your talents lie elsewhere?”

Quinlan lets out a short huff of a laugh. “Yeah, healing’s never been one of my strengths.”

“Watch me in the Force, then,” Plo says. “Close your eyes, Padawan Secura, and distance yourself from your pain. Find a place where you are calm and centered. Do not open your eyes, but watch inside yourself.”

Shmi is also watching; Plo knows that she doesn’t need the same level of instruction that he’s giving Aayla.

“Force Healing is a slow discipline,” he says. “A simple break like this, when the bones are young and healthy and have never split before, is the ideal scenario. Even you, Master Vos, can sense that it is a clean break; there are no bone fragments to deal with, no misalignment, not much damage to the surrounding tissue. If there is severe bleeding, or an otherwise unstable situation, the best thing to do is to get to a properly trained healer or medic. In a truly dire situation, it is possible to keep a victim stable; but it is dangerous and energy-intensive, and can only be done with training and practice.”

Shmi can feel the way Plo is manipulating the Force and the bone in Aayla’s arm; it is almost impossibly delicate, the way he is pushing the bones to grow with barely a breath’s worth of force. Any more, she understands, and he would instead be forcing the bones to grind against one another, doing more damage than good.

“Even this will not be a full healing,” Plo continues. “You should go to the healers after this and ask them to put your arm in a brace for the next week or so. You will not need a cast, though, and it will not take more than a few weeks to be fully mended.” He sits back.

Shmi watches Aayla blink her eyes open, then lift her arm experimentally. The area around the break is still dark and purple beneath Aayla’s blue skin, but she can move her arm without crying out in pain.

“The bone is still fragile,” Plo warns. “Do not test it too harshly, and as I said before, you should still go to the healers and get a brace for it.” His face changes expression, and Shmi thinks that he’s smiling. “If you have any interest in learning the Healing arts, do not practice on your own; there are many who would be willing to teach you the basics. And there is one more caution I must give.” Now, his presence in the Force goes grim. “You must not use your own life force to heal.”

“Will that not work?” Aayla asks.

“It depends on what you mean by _work,_ ” Plo says solemnly. “The cost will come out of your own body, your own life. And it is not an efficient process. To heal a wound with your own life force, you will take that wound onto yourself, except greater and worsened. More deadly. If you heal a broken bone in this fashion, it may come back to you as a shattered bone, fractured in too many places; this is why you must have careful instruction when you are learning healing, so you do not stray this way by accident.”

“I see,” Aayla says, with a shudder.

Plo nods, and climbs to his feet; he offers a hand down to help lift Aayla up. When she reaches out with her newly-healed arm, Shmi shakes her head and lifts up Aayla’s other arm.

“Gentle, remember,” Shmi says.

Aayla grimaces and nods. “Let’s get me to the healers before I forget again.”

Quinlan rises, and touches his padawan gently on her shoulder. “Good idea. On the way there, we can discuss the upsides and downsides of trying out a new flip that you maybe saw someone do once without at least _warning_ me beforehand…”

Shmi shakes her head fondly. “Ah, teenagers.”

Plo chuckles, an odd sound through his respirator. “Indeed. Would you bet five credits that the next time it’ll be the padawan bringing the master to the healing halls, complaining of his poor judgement?”

“No bet,” Shmi says with a chuckle. Then her smile fades, and she turns to face Plo. “Master Plo…”

He shakes his head. “As we are friends, you may call me Plo and I will call you Shmi. It will make things much simpler, if you wish for me to teach you Force Healing.”

Shmi lets her face relax into a smile. “Indeed it will. What–“

There’s a yelp from the other side of the sparring mats, and a shriek.

Shmi looks over automatically, her eyes coming to rest on a pair of initiates, one of whom has a rapidly-purpling bruise on their face. The other lies facedown on the mat.

She sighs. “It never ends, does it?”

Plo makes a small gesture, one that she reads in the Force as a signal of amusement.

The initiate who was lying facedown has now clambered to their feet, and is in the process of yelling at the bruised initiate, who appears to be laughing wildly.

Ah, initiates. Shmi and Plo manage to get over to them before the formerly-facedown one – who has a bloody nose – ends up scuffling with their friend, who’s insisting on trying it again.

“Sit,” Shmi orders both of them, and begins.

“Already know how to divert attention from yourself, you do,” Yoda says.

Anakin nods hesitantly. “I… think so? I can make it so that people don’t care about looking at me so much.”

“Indeed, indeed. An easy way to think about this, that is. But more complex, the process is. More subtle.” Yoda raises an eyebrow. “Not much for subtlety, are you, young Skywalker?”

Anakin grins and ducks his head. With Mom out doing Mom things, and Obi-Wan out doing Obi-Wan things, it’s lesson time with Yoda. The last time it was just him and Yoda, they climbed through all sorts of small vents and passages in the Temple, since Anakin is still small enough to do that. This time, though, it’s a more formal lesson. “Master Qui-Gon says that honesty and straightforwardness are virtues.”

“Know honesty and straightforwardness, Master Qui-Gon would not, if it bit him on the nose,” Yoda says, smiling when Anakin laughs. “And so much room to bite him there, there is. Hide well in the force, Master Qui-Gon does _not._ ”

“I remember the first time I saw him,” Anakin says. “It felt like he was shining.”

Yoda nods slowly. “Yes. Except felt him, you did, even when looking at him, you were not, hmmm?”

Anakin… frowns. “Yeah. When he was in the house and stuff, or walking around town, I could always point to him, the same way I could always point to Mom. But I can’t do that any more, it’s too loud in the Temple.” Well, he can do it with Mom. But that’s _Mom,_ she’s different.

“But loud in your ears, it is not,” Yoda says. “Think what would happen, if directed a Jedi’s eyes away from you, you did.”

“They wouldn’t want to look at me,” Anakin says. “Or at least they wouldn’t _care_ about looking at me. But...” he’s quiet for a long moment, thinking. What _would_ happen? “But they’d still know where I was, if they were looking in the Force, not with their eyes.”

“Yes,” Yoda says. “And sure, I am, that happened, it has, when you directed a person’s eyes away from you… but heard you, they did.”

Anakin looks down. He doesn’t like to think about Tatooine, about where he was before he came here, but… “Yeah. And I can make myself be quiet, or seem quiet even if I can’t be quiet. But then I lose track of where their eyes are going…”

“Hmmm, yes,” Yoda says. “Yes, yes. Familiar, you are, with disease treatment, young Anakin?”

Anakin frowns. “What? Uh, I guess? You mean, like, the flu and stuff?”

“And stuff, indeed,” Yoda says. “Helped your mother, I know you have. Treated those sick in Mos Espa, she did. Comes in coughing and ill, with pneumonia, a friend does. Treat their coughing, do you?”

“Yes,” Anakin says, then frowns. “No. Yes? Maybe?”

Yoda is patient. Anakin looks at him, then looks down. Even with Yoda, even with Mom and Obi-Wan, sometimes it’s easier to think if he doesn’t have to _look_ at someone while he’s doing the thinking. He doesn’t have to pay attention to making the right expressions, and looking like he’s listening, and not staring too long. He can just _be._

“Only if the coughing is so bad it’s gonna hurt them,” he says slowly, after a few long moments. “But the coughing isn’t the problem, it’s the stuff in their lungs making them cough that’s the problem.” He looks up, then, to see a smile on Yoda’s face. “You have to treat the problem, not just the symptoms. So when I want people to not notice me, I shouldn’t make it so they want to look away, or don’t hear me. I should make it so their attention doesn’t catch on me.”

Yoda’s smile broadens. He doesn’t grin with his teeth out, because his species takes that as a threat, but Anakin still knows how he feels – he can feel it in the Force. “A quick learner you are, indeed, young Anakin. Possible, it is not, to hide _fully_ from others who sense the Force; always the sense of a person, there is. Invisible to their senses, you cannot be. But to be a simple bystander, possible, that is.”

“Wait a minute,” Anakin says. “Why are we trying to hide from other Force-sensitives? Isn’t it mostly just Jedi and, uh, those Kel-Dor people, and some of the Kiffar guard people, and those monks on Jedha?” he pauses. “Is… is this about the Sith?”

Yoda closes his eyes. “Clever, you are, indeed,” he says. “Serve you well, this hiding will, if ever you must fight the Sith.” Then he opens his eyes again. “But no. Consider, young one, the potential of moving unnoticed through the Temple. Consider that in the shower, Qui-Gon is now, and that most frustrated he will be, if missing, all of his left socks go…”

* * *

“Oh, healing with the Dark Side of the Force is entirely possible,” Darth Sidious says casually, as they stroll down the halls of the Geonosian palace. “Quite painful, of course, but what does that matter? Almost all of the pain can be shunted over to the one being healed, or to a bystander.” He pauses, then turns to her, his eyes bright. “Would you like a demonstration, my apprentice?”

Vulsion bares her teeth. “I have no need of healing.” She considers for a moment, then gestures one of her Bando Gora over. “You. Cut your arm.”

He does so without a moment’s hesitation, taking out the wickedly sharp knife on his belt and slicing a long, thin gash across his forearm.

Darth Sidious reaches over to grasp the guard’s arm, his grip strong despite his apparent age (Vulsion would know; she’s felt it sometimes when he’s taught her other skills in the Force, and it’s left bruises). The Bando Gora doesn’t flinch, which pleases her; it means she’s trained them well.

He does start to scream, though, when Darth Sidious begins his healing. Vulsion watches through the Force, fascinated by his technique. She has seen Light Healing, of course, back in the time she thinks of as Before, but that Healing was gentle, was steady, was above all else _slow._ This is a wild thing, almost cancerous in nature, and the cut closes right before her eyes as if it was a recording being fast-forwarded over days of growth.

Darth Sidious releases the Bando Gora’s arm, and he collapses to the ground, hunched over his unblemished arm. It takes him only a few moments to crawl back to his feet, because of course she’s trained her guards to withstand pain.

“Impressive,” she says, and it’s unfortunate that she can’t keep her hunger for _more_ out of her voice. Darth Sidious will surely sense that. “And it can heal even deadly wounds, I assume?”

Darth Sidious waves his hand dismissively. “You will have to experiment on your own to find its limitations.”

He doesn’t need to warn her to be careful; she wouldn’t be a Sith if she didn’t already know that, and if she didn’t already know that the risks involved with this type of healing surely have the potential to be deadly. Still, she knows better than to tap into her own life force. That would be counterproductive, when she is determined to outlast her master.

Her lips curve up in a thin smile as she considers how this will further her experiments. Sidious doesn’t know what kind of a weapon he’s given her – but oh, he _will._

“You can hide yourself well enough, I suppose,” Darth Zannah says dismissively. “But you have not yet learned how to truly vanish, and that will betray you.”

Asajj narrows her eyes. “I can conceal myself fully in the Force – the Jedi do not sense my presence.”

“And yet you have been detected,” Darth Zannah says.

“Only because I was shielding you as well as myself! Otherwise, Skywalker would never have–“

Darth Zannah cuts her off with a gesture. “I do not refer to that. You hide your presence, yes. But you do not hide your _self._ You can be seen; you can be heard; you can be felt. All these things can be hidden, so long as you do not stretch yourself beyond your capabilities.”

Asajj pauses. “My Master – Darth Vulsion – said that such a thing was not possible.”

Darth Zannah scoffs. “Vulsion is clever, but she will never gain the title of Sith Master. She has the cunning and the skill, and she is vicious, to be sure. But she does not have the instinct to end things. She is too much like a cat who thinks her prey helpless mice. She has not squashed in herself the instinct to play with her food, and she has not managed to learn the lesson of mistrusting her master. Almost all Sith who were once Jedi struggle so. Almost all Sith who were once Jedi fail.”

“Darth Sidious lied to her, then,” Asajj says. “Or… didn’t correct her assumptions, more likely.”

“More likely,” Darth Zannah agrees. “It is also possible – though unlikely – that Sidious is not _able_ to use this technique. I doubt that is true, since it seems much in his style, but it is always possible. It requires a certain… hm… peace of mind, a certainty of focus.”

“But it is worth remembering that Sidious is not all-powerful,” Asajj murmurs, and does not – quite – grin with all of her teeth. “How do I hide myself?”

“First, conceal your Force-presence,” Darth Zannah instructs. “Then you must become aware of the area around you; you _must_ be able to act on your environment with the Force while remaining concealed.”

Rather than reply verbally, Asajj simply follows her teacher’s instructions. Hiding her presence is simple, now that she knows how to do it. Hiding her presence while retaining the ability to use the Force on her surroundings is harder, but she would not be where she is now if she could not do hard things.

“Good,” Darth Zannah says. “You know the general principle of pushing attention away from something.”

Asajj frowns. “This is the basis of the skill? Pushing attention, taken to a greater extent?”

“No,” Darth Zannah says. “It is, if anything, the opposite. You must be able to feel where the attention of others is directed. Do not push it, or pull it, or direct it anywhere it does not already go; this will be sensed by those who are wary of such things. You will feel where their attention is, and let it flow over you – and then you will _lie to it._ ”

Asajj does not say that this sounds impossible, even though it does, because she is a good student, and Darth Zannah would not lie to her about this. She has nothing to gain by doing so, and quite a great deal to lose. “This will take practice.”

“Then practice,” Darth Zannah says, and her holocron goes dark.

Asajj slips it into her pocket. She will practice; there are two more transit stations she has to go through, and there will be plenty of people there to be deceived.

By the time she gets to Coruscant, she will have no trouble concealing herself from those who would hinder her in her task.

  
  



End file.
